Morning mood: a memo

Mornings are not my proudest moments. They involve a distinct loathing for anyone or anything forcing me to have to wake before the afternoon. They cause me to throw pillows and grumblings in the direction of the disruptor, even if the disruptor is my otherwise beloved daughter.

Fortunately for you, I’m generally half asleep and my aim is poor.

Mornings involve a push-pull that’s both psychological and physical: psychological because I play a game with the clock to see how late I can get out of bed and still get you to school on time (the answer is 8:05 for an 8:30 arrival– I’ve got it down to a science now), and physical, because most mornings you try to help cheat the clock by physically pulling, pushing, and prodding me to a wakeful state sometime in the fives or sixes.

But yes, you know that. You know Mommy doesn’t like to rise before, well, ideally before noon, but that’s never going to happen, so I’d settle for waking sometime after my alarm goes off the first time at 7:20.

You also know that when you wake me up at six in the morning to ask me whether or not tomorrow is the first day of summer, odds are good that I’ll say yes in a semi-vegetative attempt to get you out of the room so I can snooze a little longer.

Odds are also good that you’ll recognize this and refuse to believe me. And that you’ll come back into the room every 45 seconds for confirmation regarding the situation of summer. And ask for advanced mathematical calculations of how many days, exactly, ’til summer begins.

I know I responded to that one, but I’m not sure how– because I’m pretty sure I was nine-tenths asleep, with one finger on the “pause” button of my dream and the other in my ear, pretending I couldn’t hear you.

Yet despite my prowess–I mean, give me props, I can do math in my sleep, or at least I dreamed I could–and despite all your wide-eyed, trusting, four-year-old wonder, you don’t believe me. The reason: you know full well that summer most definitely does not start on January 28, or anytime soon. Unfortunately.

Which brings us to the million-dollar question: then why did you wake me up at 6:02 to ask me about this in the first place?